Being an Angst-ridden teenager
by NephilimKyla
Summary: Clary Fray is turning Sixteen, and her and her family have moved back to the old manor. Even though shes left friends and a old life, shes happy. But when she starts Idris Secondary Academy, and meets a certain Golden boy with a perfect body and bad attitude, will she fall for him? After all, he is an Angst-ridden teenager. And, will she copy his ways? (Mundane)
1. Prologue

"Wanna Snicker?" My brother holds a piece of chocolate in front of me, a wicked grin printed on his face. He knew I had a nut allergy, but somehow, he thought it was humorous when he put a piece of food which could burst my lungs like a balloon, an inch from my mouth. I loved my brother to pieces, but he can be undeniably annoying.

"Yes, Jonathan. I want a piece of your snicker which can choke me to death and which also has your saliva all over it," I taunt back. He still had that stupid grin plastered on his face, which is somewhat adorable. How can he make me mad and make my heart melt at the same time? Despite myself, I smile back.

"I'm kidding, Clary!" Jonathan pops the slice of Snicker in his mouth and twisting around awkwardly under his seatbelt, he leans over, pulling me into a hug. I squirm trying to get out of his hold but his arms wrapped around me are like Steele. He always hugged me, but at times I really don't have a choice. I remember with clarity last summer, when me, him and the rest of the family were out in the back garden, linked to a small bay which lead – despite the blistering heat – the very cold Wales seashore. He and our cousin Alec had slyly jumped out on me, scaring the living day-lights out of me (reading a book peacefully might I add), and squirted me with their charged water pistols. I had been so livid. Alec had claimed that I was over reacting. At the time I had ignored his comment but now I agree. Jonathan had strolled over picking me up. I had not expected this! He started chiming, "I'm sorry Clare! We were just having a little fun, so should you." At that remark I struggled out of his arms, but he hugged me tighter.

"No way little sis. I'm apologising with one of my all-time-favourited hugs and you're going to forgive me." He was so sure of himself.

"And if I say no?" After I had that he had ran, still holding me like a bride and carried me the docks. "JONATHAN!" I screamed. Holding me upside down supporting my legs, my head was inches from going under the ice sea-water. "Okay, Okay I forgive you! Please Jonny put me down!" 'Jonny' was the priceless nickname trick I used on him in –let's just say- situations like these.

"Much better." He had settled me on the dock, and kissed my cheek, eyes beaming with victory. Jonathan snapped me out of my reverie. "Hey, I'm sorry," He looks at me with his identical green eyes. He was now sitting on his passenger side no longer smirking but looking rather confused and concerned. Like he was wondering what I was thinking. Like a big brother.

"It's okay, I forgive you." When I say this I give him eye contact. Something I'm not very good at when I talk to people (even family), but when I do do this, I'm being major. And yet again, his one and only smirk is back, showing pearly white canines and incisors.

I'm pulled out of my reverie by my father's homely voice.

"Guys, hope your legs aren't to numb from the long drive because you'll be helping pack. We're here!" Our father said from the driver's seat, a little to exhilarated. Dad was right. The car is parked on a large gravel path, a with marble fountain pouring chilled water into an oval bowl. And standing in front proudly was our old manor. Our home. With its gothic character and few spires the place had always given me the creeps. But the dark buttery bricks kind of stopped the 'horror movie' effect. Undoing my seatbelt and gingerly opening the car door, I step onto the gravel feeling the hard rub of rock fragments under my beaten up converse, and mutter to myself, "Welcome back."


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1.

_I step onto the gravel feeling the hard rub of rock fragments under my beaten up converse, and mutter to myself, "Welcome back."_

After staring at my old-new home for several minutes, I hear my mum's voice over my clouded, day-dreamed thoughts. "Clary, come help with the boxes. Don't even think of trying to get out of it by the way. Jonathan already tried that!" I laugh out loud. Walking around to the boot of my parents pick-up truck, where my mum, dad and Jonathan are gathering boxes and bags and settling them by their feet.

"Here." My mum hands me a large box with 'Kitchen' written in scruffy Crayola. She has an identical grin on her face just like Jonathan. It made me smile back. To think of it, my mother was beautiful. She had tamed, curly dark chrisom hair, and unbelievably green eyes; the colour of bottle glass, which in fact me and Jonathan had inherited. Everybody would say how much I looked like her. Obviously it wasn't an insult, my mother was gorgeous . But over the years hearing it over again – and realising that me and my mother actually had differences – it got a little annoying.

Despite my mum being averagely tall and slim with curves, I was quite short for my age- coping at 5 foot 3- and I while my mum had curves, I was just skin and bones. No profound hips, or (let's face it) bum. Including the faint freckles that scattered my cheeks and nose, and my hair contrast to my mother neat ringlets, my hair was a red birds nest. My mother was beautiful, and I sat of the throne of cute-ville with my subjects calling me 'cute'. Me being a teenager and all, it just isn't enough.

I follow my dad and Jonathan up to the creaky porch which started to worry me a little, knowing I had very valued plate-china in the box I was carrying and mum would kill me if I dropped it. Thankfully, I'm on the porch and past the steps in seconds, the china in one piece. I can't help but be overwhelmed with the architecture again: Up close, the buttery coloured bricks are slightly eroded with age, dark wood-panelled spires placed at the left, centre and right. It was almost as the manor had been set here in the modern day world, from all the way back from the 19th century. Though the French panelled windows gave it let it down. I loved it. It wasn't like are apartment back in Wales with its mini rose garden- but her – with its grand gravel entrance.

_CLINK. _I turn my attention to my dad who's holding a set of keys which all look a little worn from opening and locking the giant door. "You guys ready?" My mum is now behind us is well, holding a cardboard box and rucksack. Me and Jonathan nod.

Dad sets the key into the lock and with a flick of the wrist, its open. He holds the brass knob of the door and holds before us our knew home. Which I was not expecting…

**Hey guys, Kyla here.**

**Thanks so much for giving the Prologue a chance. Sorry that these chapters are quite short, but if you want I promise to make them longer. I even prefer long chapters myself. I don't have any mock exams at school now and THANK THE ANGEL no homework, so that means more wonderful time to write for you guys. **

**I apologise for ANY grammar mistakes. I type fast. Please review and tell me what you think. I'd love to hear ideas form you guys.**

**Speak to you soon **

**-Kyla (NephilimKyla) X**

**Disclaimer : Sadly, I do NOT own the Mortal Instruments. All of the characters mentioned belong to Cassandra Clare. But I wish I owned Jace ;)**


	3. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, **

**Sorry it's been a couple of days. Instead of writing, I've been reading Fanfics instead! Hope you enjoy and please review. **

**-Kyla X**

CHAPTER 2.

_Dad sets the key into the lock and with a flick of the wrist, its open. He holds the brass knob of the door and holds before us our knew home. Which I was not expecting…_

When I had stared dreamily at the architecture on the _outside_ of the manor, I couldn't help being a little creeped out from the gothic spires and all, giving it a 'Cabin in the Woods' affect (but the French panelled windows kind of dialled that down). But considering I lived here until I was two, then moved away to Wales – it was a little annoying that I couldn't remember my first home.

But now standing here in the entrance, my heart cannot help but skip a beat. Though the outside of the manor wanted me to run the opposite direction, the inside just wanted me to stay. It was a master piece of marble and wood, with beamed ceilings and artwork – a little on the dusty side – hung on the wood-stocked walls, including tapestry's with riots of colour. It was breath taking. Not to mention the marble moulded staircase in front of me with yet more pale grey marble forming a banister – leading to the hall upstairs giving directions to the left and right.

I couldn't help but stare and be shocked. Compared to this beauty, our apartment back in Wales looked like a wheelie-bin!

"Do you like it?" I'm motioned out of my daydream by my father's gingerly voice. I turn around at the exactly same time as Jonathan, both of us staring at them. My parents look so scared, that I can't help but plant a huge grin on my face.

"I love it!," I beam. "it's amazing! How did you afford it?" My mum and dad looked like a hundred ton burden had been lifted off of their shoulders. My parents both now wore identical smiles and my dad clasps my mother's hand in his. "Let's just say we've been saving up for a very long time. And, your grandmother gave us the house in her Will." I remember my Grandmother Adele living here when I was younger, her and my mother having conversations or more or less arguments about moving back to the manor and my mum would confess she loved living in Wales.

"I love it too," Jonathan chirped in, now picking up a box he had carried in moments ago. ", soooo, where's my room?" My parents and myself can't help but laugh.

"Come and help us unload the boxes, _then_ you can argue about who's getting the biggest room." Jonathan groaned but followed me and mum and dad outside to the truck. I piled a box on one another and slung a big bulky – what looked like- a gym bag over my shoulder. Just about when I was going to walk back to the house, I hear my dad call out to me and my brother. I turn around to see my dad holding his cell phone, blinking at the screen

"Better get some sleep guys. The rest of the family will be here tomorrow. That means more unloading and packing." Yet again my brother groans and heads back to the house.

Funnily enough, I had completely forgotten about my other family. How stupid of me! Now to think of it the manor had at least 15 bedrooms and I'm pretty sure it could fit all 12 of my family members who were moving in. Now thinking of it, it seemed a lot. Me, Jonathan, my parents, Uncle Robert and Aunt Maryse, Isabelle, Alec and Max – our cousins-, my Godmother Elaine and her children Simon and Rebecca.

I knew it was going to be different. Living with more people. But I liked how it felt different as I was going to have to get used to it. But it was my family, no one who I love more.

45 MINUTES LATER

Under an hour later of loading boxes in the entry way, I had so eagerly wanted to run up those magnificent marble staircases and find my room.

"Go ahead sweetie. Your father and I will be unpacking downstairs." My mum had said, and I had so willingly listened and charged up the steps.

I was now on the landing, very wide and incredibly long, doors placed everywhere as if hiding a different Wonderland. Jonathan had already found a room. I could hear _Coldplay _blasting muffled lyrics through a shut door to my right. At least he's settled in.

Not wanting to take forever and so eager to find a dream room I walked a couple more paces down the hall, out of site of the stairs, and opened the last door on my left.

It was beautiful. I didn't know how else to describe it. The room wasn't too big, which I wanted, and it wasn't to small either. A king-sized poster-bed sat in the middle against the main wall which was a very faint grey, the rest of the walls painted a pearly white. On the left is a large squared French window looking out to what cannot be mistaken as a courtyard – the backyard!

Against the wall of the door, on the right, is a large dark oak dresser, matching the _hyperbolic_ large wardrobe and wood-panelled floor. I noticed on the other side of the room, there was another door. Hopefully, NOT another closet. The one in this room is big enough anyway. But I'm caught by surprise. In front of me is an en-suite bathroom, white tilled with a huge tub-attached shower and an accompanied sink and toilet. This is not real. It can't be.

I feel kind of stupid and idiotic marvelling about how gorgeous the house is. But I can't help it. I can't help but feel that this my dream home – not thinking about the home and friends I left behind. I pad back into _my _bedroom grasping it's beauty. _This is mine. _

Awkwardly, I pull my cell phone out of my jeans pocket and slide my thumb across the screen. The time read 5:56pm. The loading and packing boxes having made me restless.

Without thought I sprint from the en-suite door to my bed landing in a puff of a clean quilt and feather-soft pillows. I stare at my high ceiling with horizontal beams. _Sweet…_

A few minutes later of staring at my beamed ceiling, my eyelids flutter and I can't help but let sleep take over me, thinking about my day, and falling into slumber with a smile on my face.

**I made this one a little longer.** **I'll update a new chapter on Friday. Thank you to all of you who have been reading. Stay tuned. Don't forget to review! :)**

**-Kyla X**


	4. Chapter 3

**Hey my Angels, **

**Sorry it's been a while. I think it's been a couple of days. I know it isn't a long time, but to me it feels a lot longer. Anyway, I've planned this chapter out and I hope you enjoy. You'll meet the rest of the family! **

**Enjoy!**

**-Kyla X**

**BTW, Thank you for all of the people who reviewed, it means a lot. Also, have any of you guys read Hush Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick. It's really good.**

CHAPTER 3.

_A few minutes later of staring at my beamed ceiling, my eyelids flutter and I can't help but let sleep take over me, thinking about my day, and falling into slumber with a smile on my face._

The next morning I woke to the blistering _beeping_ of my goddamned alarm clock. That night I had slept till 2 am, and I decided then to get my alarm clock from my unpacked boxes, so I could be awake early for when my family move in, in the morning. Now I roll on my side to the edge of the bed, trying to find the snooze button. Despite myself, I wanted to sleep in for at least an extra 10 minutes. Still trying to claim the snooze button, my body which was placed at an uncomfortable angle starts wobbling with unbalance. Next thing I know, I'm trying to grab hold of my bedside table, but without luck, I fall, my left side smacks into the hardwood floor along with my alarm clock.

And funnily enough, my alarm clock stops buzzing.

"How ironic." I mutter to myself, placing the clock with an angry thump, back on my nightstand.

Lifting myself onto my feet, the left side of my body feels sore from the connection of my skin to the floor. That's gonna leave a bruise. Forgetting about my minor injury already, I walk into my en-suite, shutting and locking the door behind me. Looking at the mirror above the sink, I'm still in my clothes from yesterday; my worn blue skinny jeans and green tee, with the exception of my knocked up converse which were thrown by my bedroom door. Glancing at my reflection, I'm surprised to that my usually un-tamed Scarlett curls are not a replica of a birds nest. I usually have bad bed-head hair, but now looking at my reflection, it's not so bad. It hangs past my shoulders, but a few strands go that way and the other; probably a clear sign that I didn't toss and turn when I was asleep last night. Weird.

After the glances in the mirror, I pad over to the bath tub, turning on the knob of the connected shower. In a nanosecond a blaze of rushing water hits the tub floor, already filling steam in the bathroom. I slip off my jeans and tee, followed by my underwear, and position myself under the shower. The water was exactly right; warm and loosening my tense muscles which were adjusting to the heat. I didn't have any soap or shampoo – it was still in my boxes - so I just scrubbed myself down, getting rid of dirt which vined my body. I'll have another shower tonight.

After 20 minutes under the shower, I turned the knob left to stop the running water. Stepping out of the tub, I realise I don't have a towel. There must be one in my boxes. Ringing my hair of excess water, I pick up my clothes and underwear, trying not to get them wet, and open the door. In an instant the I feel freezing, compared to the steamed and homely-warm shower. Quickly, I hunt through my boxes, remembering I was naked and had to find a towel. There were 5 large boxes most of them were filled with clothes and my other loved possessions, like my sketch pads and other art supplies. Finally hunting through the last box, at the bottom, I find a blue cotton towel at the bottom. I wrap the soft material around me tightly, trying to warm myself.

Picking up a box, I set it on my bed, rummaging through to find clothing. I end up picking out a pair of dark blue jeans and an ivory thin jumper. In another box I find a matching pair of deep purple pants and bra. I slip my underwear on and then my jeans and jumper, pulling my ringing wet hair into a messy bun on the top of my head. Pulling on a pair of socks and my converse, I stand flinging my towel on the side in the bathroom and folding my dirty laundry, placing it on one of the boxes.

I check my alarm clock. It's 7.30 am. Knowing my family, they must be up is well. I shut my bedroom door behind me and make my way to the stairs. Walking down the steps, I can't stop marvelling over the marble staircase. To think of it. Most of this house was a marble fortress. At the last step, I find myself at the grand entrance again. There were more boxes and suitcases next to the other side of the stairs.

_Ummm, what's that smell_? I follow a sweet smell and turn right, which leads me into the kitchen. Yesterday I had gone straight to my room. I hadn't really investigated upstairs but I really need to look downstairs is well. The kitchen was amazing. When the outside of the house was a Victorian masterpiece, the kitchen – like the rest of the house – was a modern beauty. Again, there were marble and granite table tops, with dark coloured cupboard doors. In the middle of the room was a medium kitchen island and breakfast bar, where my brother and father sat eating pancakes soaked in Mabel-syrup and cream. My mother was at the oven on the left, next to the big sink. On the opposite side of the room was an oversized fridge and freezer.

"Morning, sweetie. Do you want some pancakes. Jonathan and your father have nearly eaten them all."

I place myself on a bar stool next to my brother, grinning at him and my father with their mouths chubby from their mouths fall of pancakes.  
"Sure. Two please." My mum added batter mix into the frying pan, a faint sizzling sound coming from the cooking process. After my dad had swallowed his last mouthful of pancakes he smiled a smile which showed is perfectly lined teeth.

"Morning, Clare-bear!"

I stifled a laugh. "Morning, dad."

My mum handed me a heated plate with 2 pancakes smothered with Mabel-syrup and whip-cream. I grabbed a fork and took my first bite. It was delicious! I took another large bite and Jonathan leaned out on his stool and kissed my cheek.

"Morning, love." A little annoyed at his gesture, I brushed the feeling off, knowing Jonathan was just being Jonathan – my big brother. I might as well play along.

"Morning, bro." Jonathan slid off of his stool and brought his plate to mum, who started washing it up. Jonathan grinned a cheeky grin at my answer back.

"Morning _little, _sis." My brother said back, emphasising the 'little'. He knew jokes about my height got under my skin. I was about to give him a snarky comment back, when my dad accidently walked into him pouring the contents of left over orange juice all over Jonathan's bear chest and pj shorts. All of us except for Jonathan burst with laughter, my brother not looking impressed at all. In a flash, 2 white-blonde heads clash and my brother is tackling my dad to the floor. I loved watching my brother and dad play-fight. It was hilarious.

Now looking at them together, with my dad holding a firm grip on Jonathan's neck and Jonathan trying to push him away with clenched fists, the resemblance is startling.

When me and my mum have the fiery auburn-red hair and green eyes, my brother and father have the fair-blonde hair and browny-black eyes. They had the same muscular build is well, except when my brother had the irresistible abs, my father had a thin washboard stomach. They both had the broad shoulders but slim hips and were both quite tall.

At that moment, my mother's laughing turned into an angry echo. "Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern. Valentine Morgenstern, will you stop acting like a pack of wolves and help me tidy up! Maryse and the family will be here any minute!"

Knowing not to mess with my mum's wrath, me, Jonathan and dad stop laughing. The two heave themselves off of the tiled floor and help my mum with the dishes, not speaking a word.

10 MINUTES LATER

After nearly suffering hearing loss from mum's anger, Jonathan had hurriedly got dresses in jeans and grey t-shirt with leather boots, and all four of us hovered outside the front door, waiting for the signal of the doorbell, telling us that our family were here.

"I could be in my room setting up my X-box, but nooooo, I have to wait here for the family. Didn't you say they would be here any minute. That was 10 minutes ago." Jonathan huffed, leaning on the marble banister looking bored. The reaction on my parents faces indicated that Jonathan's remarks of impatience were wearing-out their own patience. Looking at my parents faces, my brother shut up. Another 2 minutes later, Jonathan sighed dramatically. "Well it was nice waiting, but I should be off now finishing another level of GTA." Jonathan was about to walk up the stairs when I dragged him to sit next to me on the bottom step of the case. He plonked down next to me, staring at me with incredulous eyes. "Just shut up and be patient, you undeniably annoying asshat!" I whispered viciously. Jonathan looked at me with his signature smirk.

"Excuse me?" Jonathan leaned on the back of his hands, waiting for my response. He know I can get fiery easily, but when I did, he didn't take it as a threat, he thought it was hilarious. I was not going to let him have the satisfaction.

At that, I calmed down, loosening my tense back.

"For once in your life can you be patient. And stop being a rude!" Thinking over of what I just said, it was the worst come back ever. But I composed myself, not letting my brother get to me.

After the briefest of seconds, Jonathan taunts back, "Maybe I like being impatient."

"Maybe it makes you look like a twat." I include.

"Maybe I like being a twat."

I couldn't help it. I snapped.

"Twat!"

"_Little _girl." Oh, that does it.

"Asshat!"

"Ginger-ninja." On the look of fury on my face, Jonathan burst out tears of laughter. I was about to pounce on him with a fist when there was a loud cathedralic bell chime. The doorbell.

At the sound of the noise, me and Jonathan jumped to our feet joining our mum and dad at the front door.

My mum gave a quick reassuring glance, then turned the brass knob of the door, revealing the rest of the family.

They were here.

"Welcome home!" My mum cheered to the people on the porch, though my mother's voice sounded like it was miles away from my ears. I couldn't help but stare at them. It had been a few years since I've seen them, maybe 2, 3? But looking at my cousins they had changed. My Aunt Maryse and Uncle Robert stood upfront, both of them holding, yet again, more boxes. Maryse was still tall, with a slim-perfect figure and bar-stool legs. She had the same jet-black hair as her husband Robert, except hers skimmed down her middle back while Rob's touched the tip of his forehead in soft waves. Next to them stood my cousins. Their children. Alec, the eldest, had his hands in his pockets looking awkward. He had the same black hair as his parents, straight and slid down past his ears and temple with pure blue eyes. More of an cobalt blue like his fathers. Next to him was Isabelle, the second oldest, with identical long raven hair but instead of blue eyes like her dad she had dark brown ones – closer to black – like her mother. Isabelle, like her parents and siblings were breath taking. Her ribbon-slim and model-like figure gave her the advantage of lush curves, including a beautiful full face with a curved chin and high cheek bones. At last was the youngest, Max. Last time I had seen him, he had been 9. Now at 12, you could see how much he's grown, though still shorter than me, with black hair identical to his brother and matching cobalt eyes. The Lightwoods stared back at me.

It was weird thinking that Maryse was my mum's sister, considering they looked nothing alike. With my mum's curly Scarlett hair and Maryse's jet black straightness. Though they did have the same chirpy personality.

I'm caught out of my reverie by Maryse swooping in and giving my mother a huge hug.

"Jocelyn, it's been too long. I've missed you so much," She steps back, her delicate boned hands still holding on to my mum's shoulders. "I'm going to have to start getting used to being around my sister more often." She laughed a small laugh.

Maryse stepped aside, at the same time, my mum said, "Come in! We'll grab the boxes in a second. There's catching up to do and a tour of the house."

Isabelle scoffed. "House? More like mansion, Aunt Jocelyn." My mother turns her attention to Isabelle and with a lunge, she pulls her into an embrace. Isabelle squeals with delight and hugs my mother back. "God, Isabelle you look just like your mother! You have grown!" My mum puts her worn artists hands on Izzy's cheeks. "And look at you two!" My mum's attention turned to Alec and Max. "Alec, you're so handsome. And Max, your nearly as tall as Clary!" My mum hugs Alec and Max too, them accepting it.

"Really, it's not that hard." Jonathan mumbles under his breath. I nudge him in the ribs. I have had enough with 'small' jokes.

Mum then hugs Robert who hugs back. "It's been a long time." She pulls back and stares at us all. "Come, lets go to the kitchen."

We all walk to the modern large space, smiles on our faces. This was going to be a long conversation. A lot of catching up to do.

**I tried to make it a little longer, and I hope you like it. I'm sorry it's only a tiny description of the move in of the Lightwoods, but I'll try to update tomorrow.**

**Please review. **

**Thanks, my Angels.**

**-Kyla X**


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